


Arioso

by lordbyronsbloomers



Category: Endeavour (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-02
Updated: 2014-03-02
Packaged: 2018-01-13 18:33:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1236730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lordbyronsbloomers/pseuds/lordbyronsbloomers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The piano was delivered to the evidence room on a Friday morning.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Arioso

The piano was delivered to the evidence room on a Friday morning.

No one really knew why. A rumour flew through the station that the piano had crushed someone on High Street in a comically cartoon fashion. In truth, an elderly patron of the station, a Ms. Henrietta Alsbury, had insisted the piano be placed at Cowley for a week while she visited her sister in Brighton. Apparently, she was absolutely _positive_ that it was going to be stolen. It was unprecedented and, frankly, insulting to use the station as a storage unit, but Thursday didn't have the patience or the energy to argue with the surprisingly strong-willed woman. So, he agreed that it could stay.

Under normal circumstances, the appearance of a piano would not have called for much excitement. But it was nearly the weekend, and Chief Superintendent Bright was in London for a conference, and so the officers wasted away their final hour of work by playing loudly and terribly on the piano.

Morse hung back in the office as the officers played, but even from there he could hear them well enough. “Mary Had a Little Lamb,” “Fur Elise,” and “I Can’t Get No Satisfaction” were among the selected pieces. For once, Morse thought he understood why his upstairs neighbor always stomped on the floorboards when he played Wagner too loudly at one in the morning. He could barely finish the simple task of typing up a reported car theft with "I Feel Pretty" ringing out through the hallways.

The spontaneous office concerto had slowed down Morse's work considerably, and he was the last to pack up for the weekend. He was exhausted from the monotony of General Duties, and was looking forward to drowning that exhaustion with Strange at the pub that evening, even if he was the one paying. On his way out of the station, however, Morse was delayed, for as he walked past the evidence room he noticed the door was propped open. Evidently, one of the musically-impaired officers from earlier had forgotten to lock up before leaving. With a sigh, Morse reached a hand towards the doorknob to pull it shut but, as he did so, he found himself pausing. He was curious, he admitted, to see the piano, even if it had exasperated him endlessly that day. The pub could wait, he supposed. Pushing the door further open, Morse looked inside.

The large piano looked rather comical inside the small evidence room. It was pushed up against the steel grey filing cabinets, which surrounded it claustrophobically. Morse could hardly believe they'd managed to fit it in the room. Upon close inspection, Morse discovered that it was a Steinway parlour grand, made from a rich rosewood. He ran a hand over its side, and noticed a slight scratch in the lacquer. Whether it was the result of years of wear and tear, or the dozens of officers that had been pawing at it earlier that day, he couldn't be sure. He hoped it was the former, for he couldn't imagine Ms. Alsbury would be too happy if her most prized possession was damaged while in the station's safekeeping. Morse wouldn't blame her - it was a beautiful piano.

After a few more moments of inspecting the instrument, Morse sat down at its bench and trailed his fingers along the smooth ivory keys. It had been ages since he’d even seen a piano, let alone played. After university, he’d never had access to one - it wasn't as if the Signal Corps provided spares. And, in most cases, pianos weren't just sitting around police stations, waiting to be played. Only in Oxford, he supposed.

Morse considered for awhile whether or not it would be improper to play - the piano was, after all, there to be protected. In the end, however, Morse's desire got the best of him, and he figured he should take his chance while he had one. Placing his foot against the damper pedal, Morse laid his fingers gently on the keys. He closed his eyes, trying to recall the notes to a song from his past, some Wagner, perhaps.

“You play?”

Morse banged his hands against the keys, startled at the unexpected voice. A dissonant chord rang out, nearly deafening in the confined space. At once embarrassed and annoyed, Morse turned towards the doorway, though he already knew who he would see.

Jakes stood there, smug, one shoulder pressed against the doorframe as he fumbled with his lighter. The cigarette clenched between his lips caught the flame, and the small room was filled with the heavy scent of tobacco. Jakes inhaled deeply, and raised his eyebrows at Morse. Evidently, he was waiting for an answer.

“A bit." He was in no mood for verbal sparring with Jakes. Morse began to stand, but Jakes entered the room, blocking his way. "What are you doing here?"

“I saw the door was open," Jakes replied, "and was just checking no one had stolen the famous piano.” Jakes sat down down beside Morse on the bench, making any chance of escape that Morse had entertained now impossible. "What are you doing here?"

Morse shrugged, pursing his lips. "I was just about to leave." 

To fill the silence, Jakes fingered some notes. Morse tried not to focus on the fact that their hips were touching.

“Mum signed me and my sister up for lessons when we were younger,” Jakes continued, after a moment. He was surprisingly determined to get a conversation going. “I think she secretly hoped one of us would turn out to be musical prodigies. Obviously, that plan failed.”

He chuckled softly around his cigarette. Morse nodded, unsure of how to respond to this piece of personal information, so willingly given.

“I…I didn’t know you had a sister,” Morse finally said, after a moment of silence. He tried to imagine a younger Jakes, and the absurdity of it almost made him smile. 

“Two, actually. Both older. Dora’s alright, but Eliza’s a right git. You have siblings?”

“No, not really.”

There was an awkward pause, during which Jakes reached across Morse to place his forefinger down upon the lowest key. A deep rumble emanated from the piano. "You're annoyingly opaque when you want to be, Morse."

“So," Morse said, changing the subject. "What can you play?”

Jakes rolled up his sleeves, cracked his knuckles, and proceeded to play a stirring rendition of “Chopsticks.”

“Only joking,” Jakes said afterwards, smirking up at Morse. “There’s one other song I know, but I only know the right hand bit.”

"Well, that's a bit useless, isn't it?" Morse said, before he could stop himself. 

Jakes shrugged, not rising to the bait. "Dora and I learned it together. We were too inept to play with both hands at the same time." 

Morse's curiosity got the best of him. “What is it?”

“Arioso. Bach, I think.” 

Morse bit back an involuntary smile. “Actually, I know that one.”

“Huh.” Jakes looked at him, appraisingly. Morse looked down at his hands. “Wanna give it a go?”

Though Morse wasn't too keen on playing with Jakes, he supposed that either he'd be playing a duet that evening or not at all. "Alright, then."

Morse took the low notes, while Jakes had the melody. They were slow at first, trying to remember the notes neither of them had played in years. Their fingers fumbled over the keys, but it took only a few moments for the notes to come back to them, for the piece to fall into place. As Morse himself fell into a steady rhythm, he found his eyes wander to Jakes’ fingers. Long and lithe, they seemed to be made for the piano. 

They weren't perfect, to be certain. There was discordance - ugly, violent sounds that hurt the ear, that made Morse cringe with embarrassment. But, every so often, the two fell together perfectly, and the song sounded wonderfully right. 

It was a short piece, and Morse was disappointed when it ended, though he would never admit it. As the last chord rang out, he felt the hairs on his arms stand on end. The sound faded into a quiet that the small room could hardly contain. Morse turned to look at Jakes, to say something - he didn't know what - to fill the silence. But Jakes was already looking at him in a way that Morse hadn’t quite expected. He couldn't decipher the question that was in Jakes' eyes, and so he stared directly back.

It wasn't until Jakes took the cigarette from his mouth that Morse realized how close the both of them actually were. Morse felt the colour rising in his face. Jakes leaned forwards slowly, barely moving, as if he were a hunter, and Morse, a skittish doe. His breath was hot on Morse's cheek. They continued to stare at one another, Jakes only breaking eye contact to look down at Morse's mouth. Morse swallowed. Jakes looked back up at him, the unknown question once again in his eyes. Permission, perhaps. Morse leaned in, and felt himself nod faintly. 

A door in the hallway slammed. Morse jumped away from Jakes, as if electrocuted.

The bench scraped loudly on the concrete floor as Morse stood up, perhaps more quickly than he should have. He banged his knee against the piano, and let out a stream of curses.

"Mind the piano," Jakes said, dryly. If he was embarrassed, he was doing a much better job at hiding it than Morse was.

Jakes remained seated, looking down at the keys of the piano, while Morse stood pressed against the row of filing cabinets, trying to regain his composure. When he finally managed to find words, they were idiotic. “I, uh, have to go.”

“Okay,” Jakes shrugged.

“I have plans tonight,” Morse added defensively, though he didn't know why it was any of Jakes' business.

At this, Jakes looked up at him. At first, Morse thought Jakes was going to tell him off, to yell at him properly. But whatever shadow had passed over Jakes' face disappeared as quickly as it had come and, instead, Jakes put a cigarette between his lips. “Alright.”

Morse left quickly after that, eager to get out of the stifling evidence room and into the unseasonably frigid March air. He didn't expect Jakes to follow, and he didn't. But, as Morse crunched across the gravel of the carpark, a sound made him pause. It was faint, sloppily played, and altogether wrong. But the more Morse listened, the more sure he was, that a piano arrangement of "Un bel di, vedremo" was floating softly on the evening air.

 

**Author's Note:**

> While we know that Morse is a fairly musical person, I've always wondered if he ever had piano lessons as a child. After a good deal of thinking, I've decided that Morse's mum taught him to play. Though he was never a brilliant pianist, I like to think that he can hold his own. He's certainly much better than Jakes (who, with a bit of practice, might have been quite good).
> 
> If you're interested in the two main songs that the fic references, I'll leave some YouTube links (poor quality, but you get the idea).
> 
> Arioso (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QrqbQSs-vYw)
> 
> Un bel di, vedremo (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SCoNkutK7qQ)


End file.
